We're baaaaack!

I'm resurrecting the old blog, at the request of friends. But it's been so ridiculously long since I've posted anything that I figured I should probably do a brief catch-up-to-where-we're-at-in-life post. 

Last time I posted, I was a college senior, studying nursing at Liberty University out in Lynchburg, Virginia. While I was there, I met this boy named Jonathan that I really liked:

(I think he liked me too).

We studied together, went on lots of fun dates and some crazy road trips (I got us lost a lot)...and finally, we could officially say we'd survived school, and were all gradamucated and edumacated, and all that there stuff. So fun. 

Then Jon and I had a heart-to-heart, and decided that we still did really like each other quite a bit, despite me getting us lost on all of those road trips, and he asked if I would consider NOT moving back to Wisconsin (gasp!)? I said well...I'd think about it. And then I moved to Arizona, to the middle of the desert, to live closer to this boy that I liked--I know, I know. A cheese-eating, brat loving Midwesterner plopped down in a Phoenix suburb. I'm still not over the shock myself, and it's been two years. 

I started working full time as a nurse, and in between workdays, sometimes we went on fun road trips. I drove and he navigated, and we got lost a lot less. 

That first summer in Phoenix drew to a close. And then that fall, the boy I liked flew me to California and asked me to marry him. While kneeling on a rock at Lover's Point that was apparently very hard and rock-like (he found this out because his girlfriend was so surprised by his question that it took her like five minutes to find her tongue and answer). 

But I said yes, I would love to marry this boy. So he gave me a ring to hold me to my word, and we started planning a wedding to make it official. 

11 months later, we flew to Wisconsin and got hitched, surrounded by happy cows and smiling cheese-eaters. (And several lactose-intolerant friends and family that we were equally pleased to see).

Then, because weddings and planning them and all that stuff is kind of stressful, we took a little honeymoon cruise to the Bahamas to celebrate being done with that chapter. And we had so much fun and ate way too much...and then we had to come home and get back to being adults with real jobs and real bills and all that stuff. But together. Which made it better. 

Well, we decided that being married was so much fun that we should also try being grad school students...and parents. So I started my doctorate, and he started his PhD...and on our one year wedding anniversary, we learned that in nine months, a little squeaky person would be making our lives a whole lot more interesting. Also less restful. But we didn't fully appreciate that fact until later. 

Raedyn Susannah

Fast-forward a few: we moved to a new house the beginning of January. Moving all of those boxes? That didn't start labor. I lifted heavy patients at work. That didn't start labor either. I walked the golf course behind our house for hours and hours and hours. Which also didn't start labor, in case you were wondering. Babies just come when they decide they want to, apparently, and on January 23, 2016, this little chunk finally joined us. All 10 lbs 12 ounces of her, which included a marvelous set of lungs that she's been exercising multiple times a day ever since. 

Which brings us to the present. My daughter, dubbed Squeaky as a result of her verbal contributions to the family airspace, is now eight weeks old. I still haven't flunked out of grad school. My husband hasn't starved to death. And both of us are still mostly sane. So I mean, for now, I'm calling that success. ;-D

Sometimes the most poignant, impactful reminders of truth come from people who are simply speaking candidly, graciously, and truthfully from a heart that has been transformed by a loving, gracious, and truthful God.

This past week, there were many times when I needed to be reminded of truth. This is a season of change for me, and sometimes the magnitude of those changes is a little unnerving. College undergrad is officially ending. My time in Lynchburg is drawing to a close, and relocation is looming on the horizon yet again. Friendships are going to change, as the diaspora of the tightly-knit community of Liberty nursing seniors takes each of us to different places all over the nation—even all over the world. There’s the pressure of finding a new place to live, of finding a job, of searching for a new church community in a new city, of forming new friendships...

And when I think about all of that, and really sit back and soak in the potential magnitude of each one of those factors, it’s a little overwhelming.

I would like to say that being overwhelmed causes me to pray, sing, encourage my friends, make cookies, read my Bible, or engage in other effective, happy, admirable coping patterns, because that would just be really great, right? Of course right.

But more often than not, unfortunately, I’m afraid I respond with not-so-effective coping patterns like…fuming, being grumpy, making extensive lists of things-I-should-be-doing-but-ain’t, and just generally not enriching the planet by modeling how faith in action is supposed to look. Yeah. Pretty much that.

By Friday of this past week, I had been looking entirely too much at the veritable mountain of homework calling my name, the pile of other responsibilities, and the river of uncertainties waiting on the other side of the chasm called college graduation. I was a little overwhelmed. And more than a little grumpy.

And I was frustrated with myself for being grumpy and overwhelmed, because, I mean, hello? By the time someone hits their mid-twenties, they’re supposed to be practically perfect in every way, like Mary Poppins, and perpetually happy, and able to fly on their umbrella, and stuff, right? Well, maybe not the flying on the umbrella thing. But whatever. You get the idea.

Thus it was that I found myself sitting beside my awesome man on Friday night, apologizing for the fact that I’d been stewing and fussing under my breath all evening, and yet, even as I apologized, I confess I was still feeling more than a little out-of-sorts as I thought about all that needed to get done in the next twenty four hours. (My man, incidentally, I have found to be practically impossible to exasperate, because he seems to have the patience of Mother Theresa and the imperturbable good humor of Robin Williams…God knew he’d need both, I’m guessing).

Jon is also one of the most patient listeners I have ever met, bless his heart, and so he just sat there, and listened, and took my hand, and listened some more, and nodded understandingly, and patted my hand, and nodded again (I talk when I’m stressed, I found out. A lot. Like, a verrrry lot). And then, he smiled—a very patient, slightly-amused kind of smile, and leaning in close, he said in a low voice,

“You know…it’s ok to be human.”

That was all he said. And that was all he needed to say.

Somehow, it was what I needed to hear—to remember that it’s ok to not have it all together. It’s ok to struggle. It’s ok to mess up, freak out, fall apart, and just generally not be superwoman. Contrary to popular personal opinion, the world doesn’t end when that happens.

So grateful for grace. For second chances. For people in my life who remind me that it’s ok to feel and admit weakness. For a God who accepts us as we are, and, in His wisdom, uses those weaknesses of ours to showcase His strength.

Although I still think it’d be really great to be able to fly on an umbrella. Talk about handy.  

You know, I’m now 24 years old, and I have to admit that sometimes, in spite of the official adult status, I am afraid. Like, scared out of my mind, ridiculously afraid—and of things that I ought not to be.

                I normally would not admit these things—even to myself. But in the past few months, I’ve realized in talking to others that many of us are struggling with the same fears…and also that often times, there is redemptive healing in honesty about the things with which we wrestle alone at night in the isolated depths of our minds.

                So yes. I admit that I’m often afraid. Normal people are afraid of things like spiders and falling off the top bunk in their sleep at night, and yeah, I’m afraid of those things too, but some of us struggle with fears that run deeper—fears that are more pernicious, more soul-destroying, more devastatingly undermining of our identities as people.

 Perhaps the biggest fear—the one that has followed me thru three colleges, into other countries, and finagled its ugly way into the gritty details of each friendship in my life—is the fear that somehow, I’m not enough. Not funny enough, not caring enough, not smart enough, not godly enough, not gifted enough, not relational enough, not consistent enough, not normal enough, not observant enough, not beautiful enough, not athletic enough, not polite enough—inadequate. Undesirable. Incompetent. Worthless. Unlovable. Incapable of commanding respect.

There was—and sometimes is—a part of me, deep down, that honestly believed that if anyone truly knew who I truly was in my darkest moments, they would turn their back in horror and silently resolve never to spend time with or speak to me again—and even the thought of rejection on that most personal, most real, most unavoidable, most intimate level was so excruciatingly painful that I resolved never to let anyone get that close. I was petrified by the idea of intimacy because it exposed so much which could be so easily and so irreparably destroyed…and yet I yearned for intimacy, because the human soul and heart is designed expressly for the purpose of enjoying rich fellowship on an intimate level with other humans and with our relational God Himself.  

It’s a painful dichotomy—to be deathly afraid of the thing you can’t live without. To be the jailor as well as the inmate in your own prison…to rebuff the intimate advances of others with politeness, with humor, with pretended invulnerability, with a  show of spiritual depth…anything to keep them at a distance emotionally, to keep them from coming in close, to keep them from knowing, to keep them from rejecting, to keep them from deserting emotionally…because if you don’t let anyone in enough that they really know you or really care, then you can’t really lose what you never had when they turn and walk away.

Deep down, I despised myself, and I despised the realness—the earthiness, the lack of perfection—of the human race. I despised myself for wanting an intimacy and honesty in my relationships which I could not admit to and could not allow. I despised others for failing to see thru the façade when I so desperately wanted them to, despised them for not pursuing anything deeper than a superficial friendship, despised them for what I assumed to be their inability to handle the truth—angrily despised the fact that as humans, we only seem to be capable of loving each other until we actually realize that the other person has issues. Then it’s time to bail out.

It was a tremendous burden—the weight of this mountain of contempt, and an ocean full of a deep, seething kind of rage, all of which had to be hidden, smoothed over with a smile, a laugh, a joke, a kind word, the appearance of having it all together…so that no one would ever guess the truth.

Mercifully, our God has wired us in such a way that at some point, in some way, we reach the end of our physical, emotional, psychological, and spiritual strength. The pressure becomes too great, the pain too excruciating, and we snap.

Last summer, as I navigated the emotional ups and downs and the physical strain of the book field for the third time while trying to keep 23 years’ worth of unprocessed crap locked tightly inside of my mind and heart, I reached the point where I could no longer hold it all together. I snapped…and it was ugly. For the first time in my life, I admitted to myself that I am afraid, that I’m needy, and that I was absolutely furious with the entire human race, including myself. Emotionally, I was a wreck. Spiritually, I felt empty, abandoned, deserted, and worthless.  

But our God is tremendously grace-giving, and even as He allowed me to come to this lowest point, He was preparing my heart for a gift of healing which I could little foresee or even imagine as I stood at the end of last summer looking forward into the coming semester wondering desperately, brokenly, if the pain of working thru all of the ghastliness of 23 years of life lived as a lie could possibly be worth it.

It was at that point that God—thru an incredibly faithful, incredibly dedicated mentor who has been crazy-committed to loving me unconditionally and helping me to realize that most of my ideas about friendship, intimacy, God, and what it looks like to live out one’s faith were horrifically skewed—reached down and planted a seed of hope. It came in the form of a book, titled “Wounded Heart,” by Dan Allender. It was written to help victims of childhood sexual abuse, which wasn’t a part of my story, but the principles and overarching truths dealing with the process of restoration and healing have been a huge part of the lengthy process of healing and wholeness which God continues to work out in my life.

Do I still struggle with a tremendous fear of not being enough, of being personally rejected, or being deemed inadequate or undesirable by my friends and family? Yep. I absolutely do. But now I admit that to myself. I admit that to my mentors. And I remind myself constantly of the fact that we are called to risk much and love recklessly regardless of reciprocity…that it is before an Audience of One that we stand or fall…that God is our Judge, our Lover, the One who has said—and continues to affirm—that we are ENOUGH in His eyes…that we have tremendous value because He has given us worth, and that because of that, we can be intimate with each other, even if we do so timidly at first, calculatingly, fearfully.

I have realized that in the area of relationship, God works thru our imperfect obedience and our initial failures in the process of learning to be appropriately intimate with each other. I’ve made a whole lot of mistakes in relating to people in the past three years alone…and yet as I continue to allow God to change my thinking, my heart, and my style of relating to people, I also can see that He is continuing to change and grow my relationships with those He has placed in my life. And for this, I am sincerely grateful…although the whole process of being real with people in friendship still scares the willies out of me at least three days out of seven. ;-)

Over Christmas break, I’ve had a little more time to sit and theoretically smell the roses (except that they’re all under lots of feet of snow right now) and think about life. Sometimes that’s a dangerous thing, but God has been using it to remind me to live out my faith more effectively in some very specific areas. At the end of this past rather introspective week, therefore, my prayer is that thru the years, God would preserve and deepen in me a sense of compassion, of humility, of a willingness to learn and an ability to graciously acknowledge when I am wrong and where I have a responsibility to change.

We do not fight against flesh and blood, and yet we live in a flesh-and-blood universe where we are surrounded by flesh-and-blood individuals like ourselves. And thus in our dealings with people, there is a relational component as well as a spiritual one, and a physical component which accompanies the philosophical. When we hyper-intellectualize and falsely spiritualize the earthiness of the human journey towards sanctification, we often separate the physical, emotional and sexual components of human nature from the philosophical, relational, and spiritual ones, and in so doing, we create a fragmented, disjointed picture of humanness in which no human can fully recognize himself, because not all parts of himself are there reflected.

It’s easy to become disconnected from reality in our philosophizing about spiritual themes and truths. However, truth is effective only when it is firmly grounded in reality and thoroughly applicable to the human experience as it truly is—not how it is in theory. My heart has been especially burdened for those who struggle with same sex attraction, pornography addiction, cutting, depression, and eating disorders, because I feel that all of these are areas where Christians need to buck up and step up and sometimes shut up in order to listen, feel, and learn how they can effectively help their struggling brothers and sisters in Christ gain personal victory on the moral frontlines.

Walking with someone thru their issues is messy. And nasty. And sometimes it just makes you feel grumpy. But it’s worth it. And sometimes I feel like we need to be a lot better about reminding ourselves a lot more often that it IS worth it, and that we have a responsibility to care even when we don’t feel like it. To refuse to get involved or to stand apathetically on the sidelines when we know that people are struggling and that we have the capacity to help them through self-sacrificing friendship is ultimately an expression of selfish indifference and possibly even contempt.

“Yeah, I’ve been blessed by God. I’ve been discipled. I’ve been ministered to. I’ve been redeemed, and God continues to sanctify me. But do I care enough to reach out a hand and pull you with me? Frankly…nah. I don’t see that. I don’t think you’re worth that. Sorry.” Um, really? ‘Cuz God kinda thinks differently on that one.

It’s Christmas time. Again. And there’s much talk of keeping Christ in Christmas, and the reason for the season, and sharing Christmas spirit with everyone you meet, and a whole bunch of other jazz, some of which may have been invented by Hallmark Corporate. Which is awesome—I’m totally a fan of people being nice to each other. But I think as Christians we need to take it further than that…it’s not about spreading feel-good fuzzies and warm smiles—although those are great. It’s about being a friend, sharing your heart, sharing your Savior, and investing in people. Year round. So Merry Christmas. To everyone. And may we be Christ-bearers in dark places at all times of the year. :-)

Thanksgiving has come and gone yet again. (It's this weird thing that the calendar does--it keeps moving. Takes me by surprise every year, I confess). And so, very briefly, while I should be studying for my final on Monday morning, I take a moment to chronicle a few of the things for which I have been and am incredibly grateful:

 My youngest niece and nephew...both of whom are a little obsessed with technology and capes. Although Lauren may be...just practicing her impersonation of Superwoman. They bless my life with their kissableness and their perpetual sense of wonder at the little miracles of human existence.

 Superwoman smile. Fashion sense may come later in life. If it doesn't, hey, smiling makes up for a lot. 

 My oldest--and most verbose--nephew, who is here leading a demonstration on how to cough into one's shirt. He blesses my heart and is the source of many laughs. 

My man--sweet, sensitive, Godly, and funny, with a sizeable sprinkle of mischief-maker. 

Coffee. Sometimes, it's the primary thing that keeps me smiling at the end of the day. 

My awesome siblings. For whatever reason, we don't have a picture of all of six of us at any point in the past...very long time. So here are two of my bestest friends in the whole world, and we'll just pretend the other three are in there too. 

Books. The ability to think. The opportunity to study. Oo, and the fact that studies in the formal sense eventually END?! That is a deeply happifying fact in my life right now. 

 Health. Awesome roommates and hilarious friends. And...the fact that none of us got hit by a car during any of our athletic adventures this year is also something for which I'm grateful. 

Dedicated, patient, incredible mentors. Glenn Ransom has poured more into each of us Varsity students than we may ever truly know, and I am deeply, sincerely grateful for his time, his insight, his guidance and love, and (most days) his quirky sense of humor. 

The list could go on and on, because in all honesty, I serve an awesome heavenly Father who has seen fit to bless me in hundreds of ways that I don't deserve but gratefully accept. But, um, my conscience is speaking to me about that final that I really SHOULD be studying for right now, and thus...I must excuse myself without further ado.